


Phalanges

by iphis17



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, Fingering, No Dialogue, POV Third Person, PWP, Safer Sex, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphis17/pseuds/iphis17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex with a skeleton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phalanges

**Author's Note:**

> Written on the first day of August in the year 2013.

Valkyrie Cain is fucking a skeleton.

He wears gloves, and the latex is slick and slippery over her skin. She can still feel the joints of his fingers inside her, constant and insistent reminders of exactly what she's doing as she rocks into him. Her hips snap steadily, careful and controlled, muscles honed well and considerable strength in check, bringing him deeper, deeper, deeper. The coils of pressure bear down hotly against him, searching for softness that isn't there, and somehow, despite the obvious lack, he feels like enough.

Today his façade is dark-haired and broody-eyed, a little too close to Caelan for her not to think about it, with those cheekbones cutting slashes into the curvature of his face and an odd pale gleam to his skin that defies all principles of natural light. His smile is different, and the way his gaze seeks hers out with a gentle concern, but everything else is close, close, so close. She has, she decides from some distance, a thing about dead boys.

They're kissing, or something close to it, her arms twisted tightly around to his back, fingertips brushing against the monkey-bar lines of his ribs through his clothing. She can barely feel the texture of the fabric through her callouses, and she'd hardly notice it now. His other hand rests against her back, and she notices that, notices how he moves along with her.

Her lips slide through the illusion of his, jarring and unnatural and disorienting, but she's too far gone now to sort through the confusion, and there's something so strange and dry about the feeling of him. There are times when she's with him and she feels so incredibly alive, but that's different from this. Now, she remembers keenly that she is flesh, a bag of fluids and chemicals and magic, something squishy and soft and vulnerable, whereas all he is is bones, and something in her registers that she should feel embarrassed.

She is not, though, because she has known him for so long and parts of her have been wanting to try this for years.


End file.
